


Officer Copper-Top Meets Booty Beauty

by kiera81487



Series: No Man Stands a Chance Against First Glance Romance [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: GW2017A, Humor, M/M, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 21:05:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11089917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiera81487/pseuds/kiera81487
Summary: Who's up for a humorous cavity search fic laced with adult double entendres and spiritual awakenings?...Anyone?





	Officer Copper-Top Meets Booty Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> Second entry for Day 6 (alternate first meetings) of Gallavich Week 2017.
> 
> This series will continue beyond the challenge.

Ian adjusts his sunglasses against the sun beaming off the concrete path to the parking lot; a bus of new transfers should be arriving momentarily. Knowing transfers have the potential to be unpredictable as fuck, and his ability to be effective at his job depends on him knowing how and when to posture his dominance and demand submission, he crosses his ripped arms across his chest and widens his stance, uniform stretching taut over his six foot tall body of _don’t try me_ muscles. In the distance he sees the bus rolling through the first set of security gates and steels his mind for whatever combination of challenges it might be dropping off.

\---

“Inmate 93623, Mikhalio Milkovich-” 

“Yo, it’s Mickey!” the black-haired man in front of him interrupts, shattering the quiet of the otherwise empty intake room.

“Hey! It’s whatever’s on your record; this ain’t fucking summer camp,” Ian raises his eyebrows only to be met with two raised back at him. Great, out of all the prisons his had to get _another_ fucking Milkovich. He swears Mandy must be the only good apple on her family tree. Since they were kids, his best friend’s shared hair numbing stories about her family’s bizarre criminal history and violent behaviors. The more brutal tales, whispered in late night, drunken secrecy were impossible to conceptualize, let alone believe but once he got into corrections he saw the proof spelled out in the system, over scroll-like rap sheets. Knowing what he knows now, he’s glad Mandy was as far into Milkovichland as he went because trouble can only bring you trouble.

“You’ve been stepped down to our facility as you are scheduled to be released in four months. The charges against you are: trafficking illegal narcotics and firearms from Mexico into the state of Illinois. Is this information correct?”

“It’s on my record, ain’t it?” Mickey mocks with a sniff, hands still cuffed behind him but smug as ever.

“You’re a real Richard Pryor, _Mikhalio_ ,” Ian emphasizes, just to be a jerk. Yeah, he's cute, but blue eyes and a sexy mouth don't mean he's gonna be a pussy to some thug with an ego.

“I will be administering your cavity search,” Ian wiggles his fingers into a pair of blue latex gloves. “Remove all clothing, including footwear, then face the wall and lean forward.” He roughly unlocks Mickey’s handcuffs, but the other man is barely shuffling to undo the jumpsuit he wore from his previous prison, tattooed fingers too busy massaging his wrists when they should be busy following Ian’s clear orders.

“I _said_ remove all clothing,” Ian stands at his full height, in Mickey’s face, letting the inmate know he was telling not asking.

“Easy, Officer Copper-Top, I’m getting there. Not like I don’t have all the time in the world.”

Ian’s eyes harden at the audacity of being addressed so disrespectfully, but he’s seen all shades of defense mechanisms during his career as a correction officer. He’s had men come through here timid and terrified, some too used to the routine after repeat offenses, and others so buck wild and assertive he’d had to forcefully restrain them. Ian takes in the daring blue eyes, not feeling the least bit threatened.

“Keep it up; the boys out there like a good mouth on the fresh meat.”

The inmate only rolls his eyes and throws him a smirk dripping with cool mischief; Ian would be impressed had he not been annoying him. The other man peels his jumpsuit from his pale, milky upper body, pushes it over his waist, down his even paler meaty thighs, then steps out of it toeing off his prison-issued canvas slip-ons.

Ian’s eyes take a few seconds to absorb and admire the body of the man before him: firm, pliable, thickness. _The crime he really should be locked in here for is putting clothes on._ He watches Mickey walk closer to the wall a few feet ahead and bend from his waist, resting one hand on it for balance.    

Then, Ian looks down and feels the light of heaven damn near fill his soul.

There, in the literal flesh, is an ass not even the greatest Renaissance painters could’ve done justice. It was… supple?... delicate?... no, no, _pillowy_! Yes, the pillowiest ass he’s ever encountered stood at attention, presenting its creamy cheeks and inviting crack to him, framed by a curved, muscular back, above, and two rigid thighs, below, set shoulder-width apart.

Ian’s hands inch nearer to the Mickey’s ass, almost reverently. He felt like a lost man looking to this round mound to give his life a purpose. Luckily his mind catches up to his body in time to avoid any actions that could be embarrassing–or border fucking sexual harassment!–reminding him he is a man of the badge, a goddamn professional. He steadies his hands and begins the proper protocols of a cavity search.

Mickey jolts forward a step under the warm pressure of Ian’s unannounced touch. As his left ass-cheek is pried from its twin, he sasses: “Don’t fall in.” The remark falls deaf on Ian who is being exposed to an inner beauty he wasn’t worthy of. Moving his face closer, Ian witness a hidden dimension where an expanse of dark pink skin, sprinkled with a perfect dusting of fine dark hairs, blooms from a puckered center. He keeps his wits enough to not start kneading the flesh he’s staring at, but when Mickey’s hole sends him a quick _wink_ , he fights with a monk-like willpower to not slide his finger in it.

Normally cavity searches scar Ian’s gay sensibilities. Being a member of a community rooted in man-ass appreciation, he’s regularly sent for a loop as a correction officer in charge of mostly straight inmates whose back ends resemble abandoned caves. So, to see a man take pride in his ass care is like hearing your language spoken in a foreign land.

 _Why would the fates be so cruel as to present me with a divine gift I can’t accept?_ Ian laments, on the verge of weeping. This ass is his guiding star, his oracle, his alpha, his omega. He wants to hug it, love it, flip it and reverse it! He wants, wants, wants, _wants-_

“Okay!” Ian shouts, then clears his throat and stands straighter. “Okay,” he repeats deeper this time, snapping off his gloves. “No contraband found. Get dressed,” he hands the inmate a new jumpsuit and shoes.

“You done already, Copper? Sure you don’t wanna, hold my balls while I cough?”

“Shut the fuck up and get dressed,” Ian pushes the clothes into Mickey’s chest, putting much needed distance between them as he walks to the sink to wash his hands.

“Mmm. Hard to get’s getting me hard,” Mickey taunts him.

“Go fuck yourself.” Ian knows he can’t let his guard slip, especially not with career criminals like Mickey. Prisons are held together by very fragile balances of power. One bonehead moment of stupidity is all it take for that power to be reversed, leaving an officer at the mercy of a prisoner. And the consequences aren’t necessarily Attica style revolts or acts of violence; it just means the officer’s career becomes an asset that can be leveraged to get access to privileges and wants satisfied. Ian even knows of colleagues who play these games–female officers who talk low and stand way too close to sweaty, buff bodied men in the yard, then inexplicably disappear inside with them; guards who take payouts from some of the more connected kingpin inmates to smuggle drugs in–but he’s not here for that. He hasn’t had to struggle in a long time the way he did growing up, so his desire to keep his future intact is enough for him to not fuck it up.

“Never got porked by a pig before, but you and that nightstick you packing can have the honor of popping that cherry,” Mickey bends obscenely as he dresses himself.  

“Sorry, not into charity work, but I can post an ad for you on our bulletin board, if you like,” Ian shakes his head with a sigh. This man is beyond attractive, towing around an ass sculpted by angels, but is pushing all his buttons. Ian grabs the clipboard from the table he’s leaning against to finish the rest of Mickey’s intake checklist.

“Your medical’s all up to date; everything clean. No diagnosed conditions or prescriptions.”

“Gotta say, could really use some vitamin _D_.”

“Few altercations with fellow inmates at your previous facility; no surprise there,” Ian scoffs. “Why do so many of them involve Jell-O?” Ian looks at him confused.

Mickey shrugs, now fully dressed and leaning against the wall, “I like what I like; don’t make me a bitch.”

“Okayyy,” Ian moves on. “Family contact in case of emergency is Mandy Milkovich. I swear, you guys don’t deserve that woman.”

“Watch it, firecrotch, that’s my sister. I don’t know you like that.”

“She’s also my best friend. That’s how I know it wears on her to worry about her shithead brothers turning prison into fulltime careers. Your sadistic prick of a father got sent up for good, but it seems you and your brothers want to make sure his legacy lives on. This,” Ian gestures up and down Mickey’s prisonwear-clad body, “what you want for yourself?” He’s crossing so many lines, but he and Mandy have bonded over and broken down about both their sets of wayward siblings, over the years. This shit is personal.

“You giving afterschool specials to a man with a GED, so back the fuck up,” Mickey says with the most venom he’s had in his voice since they’ve entered this room. “You not eating your own vomit off a bar floor like your daddy Frank so you Oprah now? You got out the hood–congrats to you. Mandy got out _because_ me and my shithead brothers made sure we got her a way out. I didn’t–shit is what it fucking is. You don’t get no say in that.”

“Whatever. Sounds like a cop-out, no pun intended,” Ian scribbles his signature on the bottom of the form and pockets the pen.

“What so I don’t run to get baptized after your little ‘Scared Straight’ monologue, now you too salty to bang?” Mickey raises an eyebrow in question.

Ian closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, exasperatedly. “You are aware this is prison prison, not _porn_ prison, right?”

“So, ‘no’, then?”

“Yes, ‘no’! That’s a sexual offense; I could do time for that. What the fuck?”

“When I told Mandy where I was transferrin’ she said her friend, a.k.a. you, works here. Told me lots of unnecessary details ‘bout you, but did say you played for Team Dick, too. Prob’ just busting my balls knowing I don’t let these dirty STD dudes clean my pipes when I’m in the can. You sounded like the perfect plug for the hole.”

“Wait, Mandy _pimped_ me out?!”

 “Jesus- dramatic much?” Mickey rolls his eyes, “No, she’s just Mandy, ya’ know? She thinks hearts shoot out your unicorn dick. I asked if y’all was bangin’ and she laughed her ass off then corrected me. I been _out_ out back home a while now–who the fuck do _I_ need to hide from anymore?–so it’s no biggie. She maybe just wanted me to meet you. I must’a seen you before, ‘round the way, but I was too in the streets back in the day to track who my baby sis’ friends was.”

“Interesting,” Ian nods.

“What?” Mickey eyes him, suspicious of the introspective way Ian is studying him.

“Just… there’s levels to you. Mandy talks about you a lot; felt like I knew _of_ you, but you stayed a mystery. Now that we’re properly introduced, though, you’re a lot… _shorter_ … than I imagined.”

“You’re a dick, you know that?” Mickey quips. Ian shrugs and nods.

“Well, Mikhalio, you’re all checked in; hope you enjoy your stay here. Ask the other guests about our array of all-inclusive amenities and live entertainment. Wednesday night is Mexican.”

“So Thursday’s diarrhea.”

“A guard will come by to take you to your cell. Sure I’ll be seeing you around.” Ian nods at Mickey, making his way to the door to go about the rest of his day’s duties.

“A’ight, Serpico. Still wish you took me up on my offer, but what’s four more months between a man and his hand?” Mickey grins, lewdly jerking his tattooed fist upwards.

Ian turns back smoothly, palm resting on the handle of the still closed door, “For what it’s worth, your booty is a beauty; take care of it.”

“It got to you, didn’t it?” Mickey said sympathetically. “Should’a warned you. It’s brought many men to tears.”

Ian looks at him wide-eyed yet relieved to have the emotional wringer Mickey’s ass put him through acknowledged by someone. “When it winked at me, I swear it was calling me by name, telling me to kiss it.”

“Means it chose you.”

“But I’m not worthy.”

Mickey shrugs helplessly, “When the moment arises, you’ll know if you got the strength to ram through the gates and ride out the invasion.”  

“Is it weird that I think I want to be cremated when I die so my ashes can be scattered between your ass cheeks?”

Mickey waves him off, then pauses, “I mean I got brochures I can send you for that shit, but a man like you should indulge in more long-term ass-arrangements: plant seeds in the spring; skeet shooting in the summer; autumn pumpkin smashing; and the annual ‘Dick the Halls’ holiday fest. I am very flexible and have many openings.”

Mouth drying out at the nonstop mention of sex crazed ideas now sprouted in his head, Ian’s impulse to reacquaint himself with Mickey’s ass begins rising to dangerous levels. He exhales slowly, calming his pulse and shakes his head to focus clearly on the man he now knows will be his demise. Unbelievably, Mickey looks back at him as if they’d been having the most mundane bus stop chat ever. “It’s still a _very hard_ ‘NO’ while you’re under this roof, but the second they spring you loose, I’m gonna wreck that ass so deliciously it’s gonna send me flowers.”

“I’ll pencil you in for the deluxe package then,” Mickey winks and grins lecherously. Ian opens the door and walks into the safety of the hallway, knowing both he and Mickey have a release date coming up.  


End file.
